Page 86 of Death and Do-Overs

His tone, his words—they made questions bounce around my head. If I asked them, I would be doing exactly the thing I’d told myself I didn’t want to do.

Don’t ask.

I’d told myself that by sharing his job with me, he’d opened up. But candy preferences and occupation were itty bitty tidbits, nothing compared to hiding his supernatural nature.

The lip-smacking mistake was a wakeup call. I couldn’t keep fooling myself.

He wouldn’t talk any more deeply about himself, even if I did ask. He was an enigma-wrapped ball of secrets. Levi didn’t exhibit red flags because he himself was a walking red banner.

Distance was key.

Maintain a healthy level of indifference and I’d be immune to catching feelings. Feelings were a one-way ticket to vulnerability, which undoubtedly led to pain and regret. Feelings were the enemy.

Without me asking a single thing, Levi said, “Otis is that person for me.”

I met his gaze, those ridiculously stunning irises, and I completely lost whatever I’d been thinking.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives,” he said. “I grew up an only child, while Otis had three brothers. I spent as much time as I could with him and his family, secretly pretending I was a part of it. There was always so much going on, so much excitement and closeness.”

“Big families aren’t always close,” I said.

He lifted a brow. “Speaking from experience?”

“I have a brother and three sisters,” I said. “I could do without any of them.”

“Harsh.”

“Honest.”

“You don’t get along with any of them?”

“We don’t fight, if that’s what you mean. Everything is always perfectly pleasant and nice, including the patronizing tone cast my way during every conversation about careers, money, and the weather.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I spent too much time wishing I wasn’t the disappointing middle child, wishing I was the only child.”

“Grass is always greener on the other side, I suppose.”

True enough.

“Do you see your family often?” he asked.

“No more than I have to. So, no, not particularly. I prefer my family like everyone else—at a distance, leaving me alone.”

“Not Imogen, though.”

“Almost everyone,” I said. “What about you? Are you grossly close with your parents?”

He chuckled. “I see them for holidays, check in over the phone once a month or so. Not sure if that counts as a gross amount.”

“Sounds appropriate.”

“Good. I’d hate for you to find me repulsive.”

I wished I could. It would make our time together so much less confusing.

“Growing up, Otis was there for me every time I screwed up or retreated in on myself. He’s the one I’d call in an emergency. Like you and Imogen. I want to be that person for him, too.”

---